


The Boss

by Decepticonsensual



Series: The World Is Not Enough (Tales from Autobot Spec Ops) [2]
Category: The Transformers (IDW Generation One), Transformers - All Media Types
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-19
Updated: 2015-01-19
Packaged: 2018-03-08 05:53:01
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 451
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3197876
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Decepticonsensual/pseuds/Decepticonsensual
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Prowl does what it takes to keep his Spec Ops team functioning and sane - WHATEVER it takes.  Warnings for BDSM and discussions of violence.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Boss

Whenever a mission ends, Prowl takes them into his office, one by one, and he hurts them.

It’s methodical, as befits a strategist.  All the laser-focused attention that went into ordering strikes and cracking codes and coordinating unit movements is poured into the selection of implements (whip, crop, paddle, electrodes – even some of the fancier toys in Jazz’s interrogation kit, if the situation warrants), and into their careful application.  Sometimes, it’s little more than a slap, or a stinging slice across the back plating.  A shock, enough to make his operative gasp – and then it’s over.  At other times, he might spend hours taking one of them apart, stripe by stripe, piece by piece.

The approach differs by operative, as well.  He sexes it up for Skids:  soft, supple bindings and Prowl strutting around him, lifting his chin with the tip of his crop.  Something about that seems to make the humiliation greater, while also leaving Skids more compliant by the time they’re done.  Getaway needs it as hard as Prowl can give it.  For Mirage, he breaks out the cuffs, plays up the shtick of the brutal arresting officer; perhaps it works so well because it’s familiar, Mirage having had more than a few run-ins with the law during his spoiled and dissolute youth.  Bumblebee gets the by-the-book bureaucrat, distant and cruel.  It’s the furthest thing possible from the disappointment, the hurt, that Bumblebee is so afraid of seeing in his superiors.  Prowl lets Bee hate him, just a little, because it’s better than Bee hating himself.

No one is sure what role he plays with Jazz.

They all know that they can stop him with a word, but none of them ever have.  The pain is what brings them back when they’re divided:  when the frame has returned home, but the mind is still trapped in that collapsing enemy base; or watching a fellow Autobot being tortured, knowing that to intervene would be to break cover; or desperately reaching for that mech they failed to save.  He breaks them down until they’re sobbing and aching and  _present._ And then, not in every session, but in most, the confessions start pouring out:

_I knew they – we – were coming and I couldn’t warn anyone.  The Seekers rained down fire on that place; twenty dead Autobots who never had a fragging chance…_

_– they called it ‘pink alchemy’ – it made me feel sick –_

_Oh Primus, I had – I had to hurt him, they made me hurt him –_

_– if I’d just been faster  –_

_– if I’d just been_ better  _–_

He doesn’t respond.  He listens, and absorbs them, and locks them away.

Everyone knows that Prowl keeps Spec Ops running, but only his own operatives understand.


End file.
